


A Prince in the Hand

by chewysugar



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Caught, Double Entendre, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Inappropriate Erections, Inappropriate Humor, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2017, Miscommunication, Morning Wood, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: In which Prince Adam is reintroduced to the benefits of having a human body, the servants think that there's something foul afoot, and Belle isn't as innocent as she appears.





	A Prince in the Hand

Observing sanctity had never been in Adam's emotional vocabulary during the days before the curse had twisted his life into a nightmare. He’d had little time for such intangible things as religion and decorum back then. Indeed, after his wretched father had finally had the decency to shuffle off the mortal coil, Adam had turned the palace into a haven of splendor and, yes, even debauchery.

Unlike others of and below his station, he’d prided himself on his preference for keeping his exploits a scintillating rumor as opposed to common knowledge.  
  
The curse had taken those joys away in almost every conceivable fashion. With no one around and the fires of self-hatred lashing at him every moment, surrendering to his old pleasures had been the furthest thing from his mind.  
  
Not even Belle had resuscitated any kind of need within him, aside from the blistering love he felt for her.  
  
It had been so long since the prince had felt the pull of temptation and desire that the memory was almost like a dream to him.  
  
So, naturally, when he awoke not three days after the breaking of the curse to a little problem—well, not entirely _little_ —greeting him from beneath his blankets, it shocked him like a sudden bolt of white lightning.  
  
This sort of situation hadn't _arisen_ in years. He'd been out of his youth when he'd been frozen as a beast; the time had, in his estimation, long passed for this kind of waking surprise.  
  
Adam lay against his pillows, eyes wide and staring at the evidence of his body, made all the more apparent by the sunlight bathing his blankets in golden hues.  
  
His immediate thoughts were of Belle, likely sleeping soundly in her own suite of rooms. Adam had thought it only proper. They weren’t married yet, and she had been through quite an ordeal that stormy night. And she did, after all, have to say her farewells and make arrangements with her father.  
  
Evidently he'd made the right choice. He'd have been mortified to have exposed Belle to the response of his body. In any case, the more primal—beastly, if he was being really maudlin—part of his mind was already painting very, _very_ vivid images of the woman he loved.  
  
Adam lay there for moments that seemed to last hours. He debated whether he felt mortified or appreciative of the fact that he could still ascertain such considerable morning glory; decided that he, in fact, wasn't appalled, and kicked off the sheets with indecent haste.

He padded towards the adjoining dressing room, feeling like he had in the days when he'd first started going through the chasm of puberty; oddly proud, slightly embarrassed and completely determined.  
  
Then he shut the door behind him and surrendered to the pull of his not-so-dead-after all hormones.

* * *

 

Over the next several days, the servants at the recently restored castle noticed a considerable change in their prince. He was happy, yes, but also on edge and prone to the odd embarrassed flush.  
  
"He's been through a great transition" Lumiere said decidedly during an open air luncheon in the gardens. "He has a love that had the power to shatter a curse! And he's human again!" He grinned at Plumette, who batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. "We're all overwhelmed."  
  
"Some of us more than others," Cogsworth muttered. He'd only just convinced his wife to extract herself from his side and was revelling in the peace and quiet.  
  
"I think it's Belle," Plumette supplied. "She's made him happier than I ever thought possible.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s so anxious,” Cogsworth said.

Plumette shrugged her slender shoulders. “Perhaps he’s just afraid that he’ll ruin things?”  
  
"Yes," Mrs. Potts conceded fairly—it had been she who'd broached the subject of Adam's strange behavior—"they are very much in love. But they aren't exactly taking moonlit strolls in the garden together. And they're not...well, they aren't _properly acquainted,_  if you'll pardon the subtlety."  
  
Lumiere winked knowingly. "I don't pardon it, _mon ami_."  
  
"Small wonder he and Belle haven't spent much time together," Cogsworth added, choosing to ignore Lumiere’s remark. "He's run off for his rooms in the middle of conversation with her more than...once..." His voice trailed away as his mustache gave a sudden twitch.   
  
Cogsworth, Lumiere, Plumette and Mrs. Potts all stared at one another, stone-faced in the sudden epiphany that had reached all four of them simultaneously.  
  
Then a sudden shout of "Mama! Mama!" made the servants look about. Chip was hurrying towards them on the wings of the wind, a concerned look on his young face.  
  
"What is it, my lamb?" Mrs. Potts asked as she gathered her son into her arms.  
  
"It's the Prince, Mama! I think he's in trouble."  
  
Lumiere and Cogsworth were on their feet instantaneously, both looking grave.  
  
"What happened, young master Chip?" Cogsworth said. "It's nothing serious I hope."  
  
"I don't know," Chip said with a heavy frown. "I was leaving lessons with Maestro when I went up to the Master's quarters. Just to see if he needed anything or had messages for Belle, like you asked me to, Mama."  
  
"And you were a very good boy to do that, Chip," said Mrs. Potts with affection.  
  
"Yes, very good," said Cogsworth hurriedly. "But what happened, Chip?"  
  
"Patience, Cogsworth," said Lumiere. "Let the boy catch his breath."  
  
"I knocked first," Chip went on, "and he didn't answer. I thought he might still be asleep, and I remembered Belle saying that she wished she could spend more time with him. So I knocked again, and he still didn't say anything. So I walked inside. I thought the room was empty, but then I heard him."  
  
"Heard him what?" Plumette asked.  
  
Chip frowned. "It sounded like he was in pain. This kind if cry, if I had to really choose my words."  
  
Mrs. Potts looked to Lumiere and Cogsworth with wide eyes. "You don't suppose it’s anything to do with the curse, do you?"  
  
"I don't know," Cogsworth said, squaring his shoulders. "But I'm going to find out."  
  
" _We're_ going to find out," Lumiere corrected. "Whatever you three do, don't let Belle know that there might be anything the matter."  
  
Together, the two set off on their mission of mercy.

* * *

There was just one problem with Cogsworth's and Lumiere's plan—it didn't work. By the time they made it through the great front doors of the palace, Prince Adam was already walking down the staircase having an amiable chat with Belle.  
  
"Hmph," Cogsworth said, his eyes narrowing. "He certainly looks perfectly safe and canny to me."  
  
Lumiere watched their master walking down the corridor with his soon-to-be bride. He'd never seen such adoration on the prince's handsome face before. The notion that there could be some new terror bound to ruin their happiness almost broke Lumiere’s heart.  
  
"We must keep our eyes on him," Lumiere said in a hushed whisper. "Perhaps if he returns to his rooms again..."  
  
"Yes." Worry lined Cogsworth's normally placid face. "It would be just like him, to hide anything the matter from us."  
  
A plan was made: Lumiere and Cogsworth would find excuses to patrol the corridor around Adam's chambers at varying intervals. In the event that their prince retreated abruptly to his room, whoever was on scene would investigate as discreetly as they could.  
  
Palpable dread insinuated every look they gave their prince. If there was some unforeseen side affect of breaking the curse, neither of the two friends knew what could be done. And if whatever had overcome Adam afflicted him for too long, then there might not be a way to fix it.  
  
Luck, however, turned out to be on the side of the intrepid duo. The following day, Lumiere was patrolling the West Wing of the castle. To his knowledge, Adam had gone to breakfast with Belle, and would be busy most of the morning.  
  
Hurried footsteps caught Lumiere's trained ear. He dove behind a pillar, and peered cautiously into the darkened hallway.  
  
Sure enough there was Adam. He was making for his room with an odd shambling gait as if he were in pain.  
  
Lumiere felt his heart catch in his throat. There was definitely something afoot, and he couldn't stand idly by and wait for disaster to strike. Not when his prince was so blissfully happy now.  
  
Taking a calming breath, Lumiere crept quietly towards the door of Adam's chambers. He didn't bother to knock—whatever was happening, whatever the prince was too noble to tell his family, Lumiere was going to get answers. And he couldn't afford to be delicate or bow his head to propriety.  
  
He found the grand chambers empty. Remembering what Chip had said, about the sounds of pain issuing from the adjacent dressing room, Lumiere tiptoed across the carpeted floor. He pressed his ear to the door, waiting with baited breath.  
  
He could hear a series of short grunts and gasps. Lumiere wondered what kind of horrendous transformation had seized the young prince this time, and if his days since the curse had been broken were simply a part of a cruel trick by the Enchantress.  
  
Dread made the hairs on Lumiere’s arms stand on end. The thought was too horrible.

And poor Belle.

What would she think if the worst came to it?  
  
Whatever fears Lumiere had were drowned by an abrupt, shuddering, guttural cry.  
  
Without a moment's hesitation, Lumiere wrenched the door open. The sight that met him was entirely unexpected and far more mortifying than anything his anxious imagination could have conjured up.

* * *

Belle had spent what had started out as a pleasant morning, enjoying a late breakfast of eggs and crispy sausages with the man she loved. It had been the kind of thing she’d hoped for after the curse had been lifted: just pleasant time with her prince.

Of course, the peace had been too good to last.  
  
In retrospect, Belle couldn't tell what it was that had sent Adam running from the room as if he'd been stung by a hornet—only that it wasn't the first time in recent days, and it left her feeling the same as always: deeply confused and just the least bit hurt.  
  
She wondered if it had been something she’d done. But to her memory, Adam had run off in the middle of their conversation about taking a trip down the river. Belle had been listening with dreamy attention, licking sticky syrup from her fingers when her prince had frozen, excused himself from the table, and hobbled out of the dining hall.  
  
 Belle had contented herself to simply brush it off in previous days, either retiring to her room or seeking the sanctuary of the library— _her_ library.   
  
This morning's latest cut and run, however, had become the last straw. To her great relief, Madame de Garderobe had joined her not a moment later for a fresh cup of Turkish coffee.  
  
"Suppose he doesn't really love me?" Belle sighed as she pushed the remains of her breakfast around her plate.  
  
"You are talking nonsense," said the Madame. "Curses aren’t broken by idle, fleeting love.”  
  
"Then why does he keep abandoning me? Why won't he even share a bed with me?" It felt almost crass to voice something so personal, but Belle had learned that such things didn't matter to the servants of her prince's castle.  
  
Madame de Garderobe did not answer, but instead gave Belle a look of deepest sympathy.  
  
Moodily, Belle poked at her eggs. Was there something about her that offended Adam? Did he not like her now that the curse had been lifted? He was a prince, and an exceedingly handsome one at that. He could have his choice of any woman in the kingdom now...  
  
Madame de Garderobe picked up her cup of coffee and had just brought it to her lips when, quite suddenly, Lumiere burst through the doors of the dining room. His face was as red as a strawberry.  
  
"Lumiere!" Belle gasped. "Are you alright?"  
  
"F-fine," Lumiere said, pink down to the end of his powdered wig. "And, er, it will please you to know that there is a _very_ reasonable explanation for the prince's, ah, behavior of late."  
  
"Really?" Belle leaned forward in eager anticipation. "What is it?"  
  
Lumiere opened his mouth to open, but at that moment a loud roar from somewhere towards the West Wing prevented him from speaking.  
  
"LUMIERE!"  
  
Madame de Garderobe arched a perfect eyebrow. "Goodness, but there's a sound I never thought I'd hear again."  
  
Lumiere was trembling from head to foot, still red in the face.  
  
" _What happened_?" Belle demanded. "Has he done something to you, Lumiere? It's not the curse is it?"  
  
The unfortunate Lumiere shook his head. "No. It was all a misunderstanding, you see. We thought...I mean to say...I happened to intrude at a most unfortunate moment."  
  
"Do get to the point, Lumiere," Madame de Garderobe said. "We've all been in a state over the master's attitude. Belle especially. She has more of a right to know than anyone, don’t you think?"  
  
Lumiere swallowed. "He was..." He gestured wildly with his hands.

Belle cocked her head to the side, thoroughly bemused.

Lumiere took a steadying breath. "I mean to say that the Prince was...was..."  
  
Footsteps pounded from outside the dining hall; Lumiere trembled with renewed terror.  
  
"Spit it out," Madame de Garderobe said decidedly as she took a sip of coffee.  
  
And so Lumiere obliged.  
  
" _He was polishing his candlestick_!" Lumiere burst out.

Madame de Garderobe choked on her coffee; Belle's eyes widened, but she wasn't as surprised as she ought to have been.  
  
"He was? Really?" Belle smiled dreamily. The footsteps were getting closer, and it didn't take a great deal of imagination to know whose footsteps they were.

"I daresay it's quite an impressive candlestick." Belle stabbed her fork emphatically into her breakfast sausage, her vision swimming with images not entirely of the modest variety.  
  
" _Belle_!" Both Lumiere and Madame de Garderobe yelped.  
  
Belle glowered at them. "Oh don't be so prudish, the pair of you! I'm _bookish_ , not _dead_. I'm at perfect liberty to be engaged by the thought of my betrothed _brandishing his royal scepter_."  
  
The betrothed himself chose that moment to burst through the door. He froze at Belle's words, and the most endearing pink blush stained his cheeks.  
  
Lumiere and Madame de Garderobe both looked appalled, their mouths agape.  
  
Belle laughed. The tableau in front of her was so ridiculous; what with it, and the understanding of just _why_ her prince had been dashing off at inopportune moments, she couldn't help herself. She wiped her fingers on her napkin, stood up and crossed the room.  
  
"Nothing to be ashamed of," she said softly, giving Adam a soft kiss on the lips.  
  
Adam cleared his throat as Belle threaded her arm through his. "It isn't really breakfast table conversation..."  
  
"Rather," Belle said with a cheeky smile. She nodded her farewell to the still gobsmacked Lumiere and Madame, and then walked with Adam out the doors to the corridor.  
  
They walked in silence for a moment, and then Adam began to babble his apologies. "I'm sorry for running away, Belle. It's only that I haven't had that kind of impulse in years and I didn’t want to offend you and, you know, it does feel really, _really_ good. Not that I don’t want to share such things with you! But I'm just afraid that—"  
  
Belle put a finger to his lips. "That's quite alright." At the foot of the stairs, she left him. She was half way up the steps when an impish mischief made her stop and look back down at Adam.  
  
"Besides," she said with all the care of one holding a match to the end of a line of gunpowder, "it would be hypocritical of me to pass judgement.”

Adam frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Belle shrugged simply. “How do you think I've been wiling away the lonely nights in that prison of a room you keep me in? Perhaps now we can share a bed and make both of our fantasies a reality?"  
  
Adam's jaw dropped, and with that, Belle half-ran up the remaining steps, her triumphant smirk turning to a laugh when she heard her prince let out an audible, strangled groan behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> You know something, gentle readers? After the third time I saw Beauty and the Beast I promised myself that I would only write fanfiction in its sphere that maintained the beautiful, magical, moving, innocent essence of it.
> 
> So anyway, that promise lasted all of a month, and I am incredibly immature and should not be allowed to write anything ever again.


End file.
